


And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

by smoviescenes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby, Castiel Drives the Impala, Happy Ending, Heaven, I promise, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Sleeping in the Impala, The Impala - Freeform, cas is still alive, i found a liquor store and i drank it, liquor store, though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 08:56:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12032493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoviescenes/pseuds/smoviescenes
Summary: Based on this tumblr post."It had been a few hundred years since the Winchester's deaths. Castiel still lights a candle on Sam's birthday and drinks a liquor store on Dean's. He still hunts and drives the Impala around. Fixing the Impala is all he uses his angel powers for any more. He would rather drive than fly because it's all he has left of his family."





	And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this: https://www.instagram.com/p/BWVydSZH2n8/ tumblr post. Good god, is it heartwrenching or what?   
> I had to get this off my chest and make it a little less devastating, and I hope you like it xx

Earth.

Several billion years since the beginning. 

79 years since Sam Winchester had a stroke in his sleep. He was 81 years old. 

122 years since Dean Winchester threw himself into a firefight with no hope of winning it. Blaze of glory, and all that. He was 42. 

The impala still runs, however quite reluctantly. Whatever grace is still left in Castiel, he uses it to keep her together. The last piece of his family that he has left. 

 

August, 2143

A snow storm breaks out in Arizona. Meteorologists are puzzled by it, hunters know the signs of angelic presence well enough by now to stay the hell away. 

122 years earlier, Castiel and Dean left the bunker for a hunt. Their last hunt, although neither of them knew that at the moment. 

Today, Castiel goes back to the clearing where it all happened and sits on a fallen log. He can see the lake from here, and it’s a beautiful day. 

Or, it was before Castiel got here. Now the snow is three inches thick and the wind tugs at his hair. It’s the closest he can get to flying, these days. 

 

September, 2143

The world turns less green every day. Castiel chases down the last leaves of summer that he can find, but he is in the wrong part of the country and everything is _orange,_ and _brown_ , and _wrong_. 

Sometimes during the summer, if Castiel looks through the leaves and the sun shines in just the right way, he can find the exact shade of Dean’s eyes in the trees. 

 

October, 2143

Lawrence, Kansas.

Of course, the neighborhood that Dean and Sam were born in is not what it once was. The houses have all been rebuilt, lawns smaller to make room for more homes. The impala fits perfectly on the street next to the place where the Winchester’s house used to be. They both know that she belongs there, and it is with a sad heart that Castiel drives her away. 

 

November, 2143

Sam used to invite him to thanksgiving every year, and Castiel showed up every single time. His wife was a sweet woman who always offered Castiel more food than strictly necessary. She offered a bed in their house, too, but at that, Castiel drew the line. He could never leave the impala behind for too long. 

After Sam’s wife died, they had one last thanksgiving together. This was the first time that Sam actually explained what the holiday meant. 

Castiel thanked him for looking after him. 

Sam just gave him a strange look and told him that they were family. That Castiel would always be welcome in his house, even though he now looked 40 years younger than Sam. 

A week later, Castiel listened to his last heartbeat.

 

December, 2143

Christmas was always Dean’s favorite holiday. Castiel could never understand it. Sam had given him a long explanation about the traditions of the holiday, and the only thing that Castiel picked up on was that you were supposed to give each other gifts. 

For Sam, he wrote a complete enochian dictionary. For Dean, he recreated a photo album with pictures of John, Mary, Sam and Bobby. When Dean asked him why he hadn’t put any pictures of himself in it, Castiel didn’t understand. 

Not until 2019, when Castiel’s gift to Dean was a scarf that perfectly matched his eyes, and Dean kissed him for the first time. Suddenly, Castiel understood things a little better. 

 

January 24th, 2144

19 liquor stores is not enough to make Castiel pass out. He stumbles back to the impala, gets in the backseat and for a moment, he can see Sam in the passenger seat and Dean behind the steering wheel. He remembers every millimeter of the back of their heads, every last detail. Sam’s smile whenever Dean started singing along to the radio. The way Dean would tilt his head back and scream the words out, then twist back with a smile in Castiel’s direction. 

Castiel wants to scream and hurt something, destroy mountain ranges and remove every cloud from the sky, but he is completely numb and boneless and instead he just lies down on his back and closes his eyes.

 

February, 2144

Earth.

Whatever. 

His grace is fading out. 

He is old, and angels are immortal, and the strain of losing everything that was ever dear to him is becoming overwhelming. 

 

March, 2144

He parks the impala on whatever remains of Bobby Singer’s salvage yard. He walks around her one last time, supporting himself on the frame with every dying step. 

He lies in the backseat, wings slowly coming into existence at his back. 

Even though he is an angel, he doesn’t know where angels go when they die. The void is his best guess. Maybe he will meet Balthazar there. Or Anna, or Gabriel. The hundreds of angels that he has killed. 

Maybe God will let him vanish completely, one last merciful gesture from his father. 

He closes his eyes and he doesn’t open them again. 

 

∞

 

”Hey, angel. Wake up.” 

No. 

”I’ve been waiting for you.”

This can’t be real. 

”Come on, show me those pretty blue things.” 

Slowly, Castiel opens his eyes. 

”I hope you gave Baby a proper burial.” 

Castiel is in a bed, a warm, soft, bed, and only inches from his face are two green eyes and a night sky of freckles, and Dean smiles a toothy grin. 

 


End file.
